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Gone With the Wind!

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Post by Fleur Tue Jan 18, 2022 1:00 am

Gone With the Wind!  Unknown


There were five people in the traveling cart to which the opening admitted them. A small elf woman with a heavily-embroidered fan in her hand was cooling herself by the entrance. She held a pouting fairy on her knees, and whenever she bristled and huffed to let off some steam she brought her finger to her head and gave her a few gentle strokes with a face that was unchanging. Another Gaiyan, a dryad just as beautiful as the elf was the sprightliest one of them all, the rarity lovingly leaned against his beau and stared at the dourness of the crimson-winged girl with a perfectly raised eyebrow; and near the towering pillow fort was a sleeping man curling under a rag that covered his torso. A pleasant-mannered creature of olde.

The sympathy oozing from the elf’s touches embarrassed and humbled the youthful fae so much that she hugged the side of her finger to halt the start of another petting. She then rose from her fleshy seat and leaned out of the moving cart, her big eyes drinking in the scenery.

The enchanting dawn had deepened into a golden afternoon, and she watched the radiant curve of the sun lighting the good earth. Through the bold illumination she saw pastures of viridian, thriving trees and a beautiful caravan; but it was highly atypical, for it possessed a coating and a design that was too signature to replicate.

Fleur dramatically clutched her heart and allowed the fond embrace of gravity to drag her down. The blonde was too overwhelmed with pleasant feelings to notice the sigh of relief escaping the pink lips of her savior as she fell into the palm of the giant’s hand.

Fleur threw a startled glance at the outside world again and danced strangely upon the instantaneous recognition of what she had seen.

The fairy pursed her lips into a small ‘o’ and waved her hands madly in the air, as though she were attempting to ward off an army of demons.  

“Stop the cart!” she cried.

“Miss Silverpine, did you eat an entire sugar cube by yourself…again?” said pretty boy Cain, who wrinkled his nose.

Fleur grew, expanded in size and entangled herself merrily across their laps with an elated laugh that practically echoed over their heads and into their hearts.

“It’s the man of my unicorn-sprinkled, rainbow-infested dreams,” the once very small creature said with a humorous drawl. “There aren’t enough adjectives in the world to describe him. It’s disgusting how someone so sweet, kind and unique can exist in a world like this. It makes me want to tear my hair off to the roots and live out my best bald life.”

She unconsciously twirled a messy straw of hair around her slender finger. She was so foolishly happy, she appeared to have released more dust than usual, which did not go unnoticed by her sparkling family of actors.

“The way he laughs makes me smile, and the way he smiles gives me butterflies, and everything about him makes me happier than a kid eating a giant tub of ice cream.”

She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, grinning dreamily.

“Fate totally brought us together to…” she stopped as she noticed more than half of the troupe curled around her for a good piece of juicy, juicy gossip, “humiliate me.”

The flushed stagehand looked at her fellow actors with an impending sense of dread in her eyes as their smiles broadened widely under her nervous gaze. “Ok, what is this, a staring contest?”

The cart wriggled suddenly, and an all out war ensued from within, coupled with giggling and screaming. Flashes of an outstretched hand could be seen clawing madly at the only exit of the cart; a hand that vanished back into the depths and emerged with a bracelet made of white flowers. Fingernails of pink buried themselves into the wooden exterior of the cart as petals of white flew out from within and danced harmoniously with the wind.

She clawed her way out, dipping her slippered feet into the grass, as she growled through her massive curtain of golden hair and tossed her rebellious tresses with a frustrated sigh.  She was determined to march right back to the cart, wanting to see Saeven nevermore.

She looked more of a sacrificial lamb than a majestic fae.

Fleur would not have her way. She was promptly knocked out of the cart with a bouquet to the face. Not wanting to crush them, she brought them to her chest and fell on her back.

The flowers weren’t at fault for their extraness. They didn’t deserve the pain her body felt right now.

The cart, led by beautiful horses of chestnut brown, vanished down the road. A piece of her soul left with them as she grabbed the silly flower crown Satine made for her and threw it on the ground. Fleur eventually repented and slapped it back on her head.

She felt stupid for looking so flowery in her white summer dress, so dumb for holding a bouquet that she couldn’t possibly bring herself to dispose of.

“Being a drama queen isn’t going to help me. How about this, old girl? I’ll just wing it, have a good time. I’m just passing by. I’m just seeing a friend. It’s not like I’m going to propose to him. Humans are so extra with their mating rituals. The rings are very pretty, though.” Fleur laughed, feeling the crunch of the grass and the leaves beneath her covered feet.

She traversed the greenery with thoughts that ranged from sweet to utterly petrifying. “In case things get a little too awkward, I can always ask for a reading and be on my merry way. It’ll be fine! What am I worried about, being perceived as a creep forever? Please! We don’t have all eternity, but can you just imagine?”

“Get away from me, you zit with wings. You could be two hundred years old and I’d still run from you.” Fleur was rambling now, clutching the roses ever closer to her heart, feeling smaller somehow despite the humor.

She stopped at what she hoped was the entrance, keeping some distance between herself and the caravan door.

She had terrible experiences with doors. Such as being smacked by one due to smallness, and while she was very much human-sized at the moment, she still feared being hit.

Now, she was frozen in place.

This is the part where you knock, she thought in a voice that was condescending, unable to move from her spot.

Poor idiot.

Word Count; 1090

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